


Saturday's Sanctuary

by Anila Mirgl (Reveri)



Category: Original Work
Genre: A dumb waitress destined for greatness, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Feel-good, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Gods and Goddesses, Good old plain humans, Hunters, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Prophecies, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves, Witchcraft, Witches, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reveri/pseuds/Anila%20Mirgl
Summary: The thing about Saturday Lau is that she is incredibly dense.For all it’s worth, she doesn’t realize that her little sister is an apprentice witch, her best friend is a vampire, the standoffish tenant living above her apartment is undoubtedly a werewolf, and the café regular who dines n’ dashes every weekend? Most definitely the ghost of a murder victim from the 60’s.Everything comes to a screeching halt in her mind when her class crush puts forth a strong argument against God’s existence during the Philosophy 101 term-ender and starts a full-blown debate with the silent kid who always dramatically acts holier than thou. As far as she knew, supernatural beings only existed in fairytales, and angels and demons were – at the maximum – biblical…What’s it gonna take for little miss Saturday to realize everything is exactly as it seems? And what’s this about a prophecy?
Kudos: 3





	Saturday's Sanctuary

**SATURDAY'S SANCTUARY**

**Written by Anila Mirgl  
**

* * *

_._

_._

_._

_And yet I swear_

_I love this earth_

_That scars and scalds,_

_That burns my feet._

_And even hell is holy._

_– Gregory Orr_

_._

_._

_._

* * *

**1**

Saturday Lau believes in love. Love that endures, persists; unapologetic and unbridled by the notion of touch and physicality feeding into it. She's sure that, somewhere out there, there's a reckless sort of it that devours and consumes, ravingly at the same time, becomes sonnets and ballads, transcends all rational thought. To an extent, she knows that the little hesitation she has to find it is haunted by the memories of her parents separating, nurtured by the trauma of having to raise her sister through their teenage years alone, but the idea of love endures, surely it does, and someday she would meet it with open arms.

For now, Saturday is satisfied with living, getting by, putting one foot in front of the other and making memories of her own. Ardenvale is such a beautiful city anyway, and she has all the love she needs in the form of her younger sister Jada, and their fat Ragdoll cat named Salem.

"You have to stop giving Salem biscuits behind my back," Jada said accusingly as she emerged from her room, fingers deftly combing through dark, silken locks that were still faintly damp from her morning shower.

Saturday hummed absently into her coffee. "And you have to stop waking up ten minutes before the school bus arrives." She watched her sister rush around the apartment, shoving books and pens carelessly into her school bag as she went, "Aunt Aria says you promised to bring a fresh batch of tea leaves and herbs for the café, so don't forget to bring them later."

"Oh, right. I did promise that."

"Jada…"

"Chill. I'll bring them over after cram school. Just… water them for me before you go." Jada pleaded, throwing a nervous look at the mini garden in their apartment balcony. "I'm _really_ late."

Saturday sighed. "Fine. Just don't forget to bring them. And stay safe."

The front door closed behind the teenager not even a second later, and Saturday lazily turned her gaze to the line of potted plants decorating the ledge.

Sage, basil, arnica, thyme... Various flowering vines and herbages were starting to crawl through the iron balcony railing from their crated beds on the floor. She hadn't been able to keep track of the rest of their names – especially at the rate her sister was filling the space – but she definitely enjoyed the whole horticulturist phase Jada had going on. It's just… it would take at least an hour to have them all watered.

A wet nose nudged at her leg, and then a meow. Saturday placed her mug down before tutting.

"You heard her, Salem. No more extra biscuits."

* * *

The Havenry is a bakeshop and café located in central Ardenvale, just at the corner of Mallory Street. Their baked goods are a city staple and usually partnered with a cup of homebrewed coffee. The owner, Aria Smith-Lee, is an unsociable, aged widow, and her nieces dutifully assist her in managing the family business. Saturday works the ovens when the resident baker asks for an early shift off, otherwise she runs the café floor with the waitstaff. Jada, on the other hand, is more helpful away from customer service and heavy lifting. Lately, she has taken over replenishing homebrew tea stocks and cooking herbs as well.

"Slow day today." Saturday said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the countertop. Her aunt raised a sculpted brow at her from behind the cashier. "Don't worry, I'm not leaving until Jada comes to help close up shop."

"You'd better not." The woman huffed, then glared at the outside weather. "It's that damn storm."

She hummed in agreement and idled by until the café bell rang, signaling a customer's arrival. She turned to the door and blinked. No one was there.

"The wind's strong," Her aunt grumbled.

But Saturday knew better. A smile grew on her face as she pushed herself off the counter, snagged the coffee pot from its place, and headed for the empty lounge area at the other side of the café. As expected, a pale-faced girl with long, black hair was seated at one of the farside tables.

Saturday has met a lot of eccentric people on the job, but her favorite by far is Veronica Young. Yes, the woman was a serial dine-n-dasher, but she always delivered interesting riddles for Saturday to solve, all for the cost of a single cup of coffee.

"What can I get for you today, V?"

The pale customer ignored her. Blank eyes affixed onto the heavy rain outside, Veronica murmured, "What's always in front of you but can't be seen?"

Saturday considered it as she poured a caffeinated serving, then she slid into the chair opposite with a pensive look.

"Air," she tried.

Veronica shot her an annoyed glare. "No."

Saturday hummed shortly, drumming her fingers on the tabletop as she thought about it. She watched as Veronica's pale fingers lifted the porcelain cup to her mauve lips. At her fourth generous sip, Saturday livened up with an answer.

"Oh, I know! A ghost." Wide, startled eyes snapped to hers and Saturday chuckled, sliding right out of her seat. She took the coffee pot and the empty cup with her as she went. "I kid, I kid. I'll have the answer next time, I'm sure."

She heard the café bell ring at the bakery front again, this time accompanied with Estrid and Jada's laughter. She started to head back to the shop and paused, looking back.

All the lounge tables were empty again. Veronica nowhere in sight.

The waitress sighed. "You think she'd start paying for the coffee by now."

"Now who are you talkin' to over there?" Estrid asked curiously as Saturday made her way to place the pot back. Saturday shrugged.

With her dark, wavy hair, vintage dress fashion, and the trusty Victorian umbrella hanging from one arm anywhere she went, Estrid Clarke was yet another one of Ardenvale's eccentric residents. Estrid was a good friend of Saturday's, despite their seven-year age gap. The straight-laced woman managed an old boarding home located in the outskirts of Langley and often spent her weekends organizing charity events for The Crimson Cross. Tonight though, Estrid came bearing the movie tickets the Lau sisters had gotten in exchange for donating a pint of blood each during the previous week's blood drive.

"Good thing the rain's clearing up. We might get to the moviehouse in time for the show."

"Unfair!" Jada's voice piped up from the kitchens. "I want to watch at The Premiere, too..."

"You're closing up tonight, you rascal," Aria said immediately from the register. "You've been piling your shifts on your sister long enough. You're lucky she's a saint."

Estrid hid her a snigger behind a hand. Saturday untied the apron from her waist and noted curiously, " _You're_ in a good mood."

Estrid winked at her secretively, and the brunette disappeared into the staffroom with a roll of her eyes. She emerged a few minutes later wearing a blue blouse and a hopeful expression. She had put on lip gloss, and wispy fringes framed her face. "Do you think Auntie'll let me take a box of donuts to-go?" she whispered to Estrid. "The popcorn is kinda stale at The Premiere."

Estrid felt a cold shiver run up her spine. She didn't need to turn around to know that the old blonde in question was glaring frostily from where she sat. " _I_ think we should settle for popcorn."

Saturday deflated, heading for the door. "You're right. What are we watching tonight?"

There was a brief Cheshire smile on Estrid's face as she handed the tickets over, her sharp, lateral incisors flashing. "' _Blood of the Moon Psychic._ '"

They ducked under Estrid's umbrella and headed for the bus stop across the street. "Sounds ominous," Saturday nudged her friend with an elbow, excited. "Do you think someone'll die in the first five minutes?"

Estrid laughed. "Oh, I bloody hope so."

* * *

The movie turns out to be more of a psychological thriller than a horror-and-gore fest. There's something comedic about catching psychopaths using psychic powers rather than common sense and psychology. They laugh about it on the way home, and Saturday pauses mid-conversation before bursting out, "The future! The psychic sees _the future!"_

Estrid watched her friend whirl her arms around as the realization dawned on her. "Yes, that's the definition?"

"No, Estrid—" Saturday wrung her hands, wide-eyed with amazement. "What's always in front of you but can't be seen? The _future!"_

"Right, of course… Did you hit your head somewhere recently?"

Saturday willed herself to calm as they disembarked at the train station nearest their neighborhood. Walking around at night was always a treat in Langley. Most of the buildings weren't as tall as skyscrapers and they had unobstructed view of the night sky. Speckled stars shone from above them, and while it was easy to lose herself in Estrid's storytelling, they had to part ways when they arrived at the front porch of her apartment complex. She noted that the balcony lighting of her unit was on. Good – that meant Jada had made it back already.

As Saturday fished out her keys from the pocket of her jeans, a howl sounded out. "Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. Someone took over the empty flat above ours last week," she disclosed, "Easton. Nice guy. I've haven't seen 'em yet, but I think he has Shepherds."

Estrid's nose wrinkled. "Shepherds," she repeated dryly.

"Yeah, those big ones? I hear scuffles and whines sometimes. And howls. But it's fine. I love dogs. Do you think he'll let me walk them?" Saturday rambled, making a small sound of triumph when she finally slotted the right key into the black gate. After entering the keycode for the main door, it opened with a beep, and Saturday stepped into the building lobby. She turned around to bid her friend goodbye, but found Estrid staring up from the porch, her eyes dark, lips pulled into a tight frown. "...Estrid?"

The stern woman's obsidian gaze snapped back to Saturday's. She nodded once before turning to leave. "Stay safe, Satie. Don't forget to lock your doors."

"Yeah, you too." Saturday's brows furrowed together as she watched her friend walk away.

Did Estrid not like dogs?

* * *

The following week was hectic for Saturday. Graduate school professors think they're being slick when they drop requirements and deadlines a week before terms end. She was really thankful to have met the impassioned peers of her Philosophy study group, and without them she would not have survived the lecture on mathematical propositions.

Darcel and Lior were taking the same night classes as her at the local university, and though they had clashing personalities, they really made for the best groupmates where term papers were concerned. Just as it was happening now, they usually waited for her shift to end at the café and conducted study sessions late into the night (and Aria let them, as long as they cleaned and closed up after).

Sometimes, being a waitress had its perks.

Come nine p.m., Saturday flips the signage and locks the bakery door. She makes her way to the lounge area only to be greeted by the sight of her study partners bickering. No surprise there. They simmer down when she places cinnamon and coffee rolls in front of them.

"Thanks for waiting again, you guys. Snacks are on me."

"Saturday, you don't have to." Darcel muttered guiltily as she took the seat beside him, but she could see him eye at the sweets briefly with longing. "We should definitely be the ones paying. We're always staying late."

"He's lying." Lior deadpanned, pushing a few strawberry blonde strands away from her face. Darcel glowered in response, and Saturday snorted. "He definitely loves the free cinnamons as much as me. Because they are perfection and no sane person will say no. So thank you, Saturday."

"Yes, thank _you_ , Saturday." Darcel bit out in annoyance.

The brunette took in the stack of papers and books laid out on the table. "Alright, where are we?"

"Darcel and I have gone over the assigned readings, and we agree that Professor Everdeen is out for our heads," Lior said seriously. "He's really testing us with this one."

Saturday nodded sagely. With a teasing undertone, "Yes… That's what a term paper is for…?"

Darcel made a whine of frustration and ran a hand through his platinum hair. Saturday had always been curious how he maintained it. Would he ever namedrop his salon if she asked? "No, really, we think he's testing us. It's supposed to be a basic introductory course to Philosophy, right, and I checked with the others and they didn't get topics in the same category as ours at all." He said in a low, matter-of-fact tone. "Everdeen is a dangerous, dangerous man."

"You shouldn't have let him catch you sleeping at his lectures then," Lior commented. Darcel ignored her.

"So I'm failing his class for sure. That's nice," Saturday said brightly. Lior nearly choked on a coffee roll as she bit back a laugh. "So, what are the topics?"

"Religious ethics and law," Darcel turned her attention to his copy of the handout. Satie hummed as she read through the list of topics and principles they'd have to tackle in their final paper. "Can you believe this one? He wants us to _rationalize_ _monotheism despite its transgressions._ I'm going to have a conniption."

An offended squawk came from across them. Saturday sighed. _Here we go…_

" _Excuse_ me? Monotheism is a virtuous belief that there can only be one true, perfect, omnipotent, omniscient goodness—"

"—right, so Lior's volunteered to write that one out," Saturday whispered quickly to the boy beside her as they let the orange-haired bombshell launch into another one of her fervent spiels.

Darcel nodded just as quick, immediately crossing out the topic before scanning the handout to choose from the remaining questions again. He pulled his gaze to stare back at Saturday, and for some reason his lips felt dry. Wetting his lips, Darcel cleared his mind with a shake of his head and asked her, "Erm. Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Definitely not." Saturday's grin was smug. "I'll answer the ones on religious and legal doctrines. My friend, _you're_ stuck with drawing the lines between reverence, devotion, and fanaticism."

Pinned under Darcel's unyielding, stormy emerald gaze, Saturday felt her cheeks turning pink. "And what makes you think I'll let you?" He drawled, genuinely curious, chin propped on a palm as he stared at the waitress.

Saturday swallowed thickly and jutted her chin towards the plate stacked with sweet, sinful goodness. "What, did you think the rolls were free?"

"Ah, I should have known," Darcel lamented dramatically, "Your kindness is human, and therefore flawed."

Another sputtering sound from across them. "Humans aren't _flawed—_ "

"You have _got_ to stop letting him rile you up, Lior." Saturday said, exasperated, then warned the person next to her with a stern finger. "And you. Shut up and start reading. I want this paper so perfect and flawless that Professor Everdeen will sing us words of worship. _Twice._ " The tone of her voice dropped as she cracked her knuckles and squared her shoulders. Lior laughed under her breath. "And mark my words… he will."

A devilish smirk to her right. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

**Chapter 1 Word Count: 2523**

**Version 1 Feb 2021  
**


End file.
